Yesterday some of us were coloring at the dining table while my oldest grandchild drew up a chart to record data about an interesting rock she'd found down at the creek, and she said, "I can't wait to take this home and put it on my spreadsheet!" Yes, we now live in a world in which eight-year-old girls create spreadsheets to record data about rocks. There's something to be thankful for!
When she got bored, I threw open the cedar chest and the basket full of scarves and she got busy putting together some very creative combinations from all the old fancy-schmantsy clothes I've inexplicably saved over the years. My old prom dress has never looked better, and we all enjoyed the fashion show.
We've all colored and played Legos and gone for walks together, but I'm most thankful for a family that knows how to work together to prepare a feast. I don't know where my daughter learned to make such fabulous pies--certainly not from me--but every hand played a part in putting a turkey and all the trimmings on the table (and cleaning them all up afterward).
Last night while all the men took my grandson to Columbus for his first hockey game, my daughter and I introduced the little girls to Singing in the Rain, which made them laugh their little heads off and express a desire to see it five million more times. Now their chirpy little voices are going around singing Moses supposes his toeses are roses, a pleasant sound to hear in a house that is normally way too quiet.
Now it's time to clean up the Legos, wipe up the syrup smears, pack up the muddy boots, and send everyone home. But we're not packing up the thankfulness. I need to make room for that in my house every day of the year.